


Trapped In a Birdcage

by gunpowder_and_pearls



Series: whump but mostly just Jason Todd [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Electrocution, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason is just really out of it, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, The rest of the Batfam is there, Torture, about the Joker of course, speaking of which, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunpowder_and_pearls/pseuds/gunpowder_and_pearls
Summary: Just because Jason wears a Bat on his chest doesn't mean he's one of them.On that same note, just because he's not one of them doesn't mean he'll give up their secrets.He wonders how long it'll take for that to get through Roman's thick skull.(In which Jason dies slightly less than before)
Series: whump but mostly just Jason Todd [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174127
Comments: 15
Kudos: 254





	Trapped In a Birdcage

Jason lost count of how long he’d been captured somewhere around the third time they used electricity. It was the first time he’d passed out completely, and the first time he lost hours, not minutes that he could easily count with a glimpse at some stupid goon’s watch. 

He wonders what Black Mask thought was going to happen when he snatched Jason. Or more accurately, when he ambushed Red Hood, lost about ten men to various gunshot wounds, and then proceeded to drug Jason until he couldn’t see straight. 

Jason would’ve expected that someone so good at surviving would have thought the whole  _ kidnapping Red Hood  _ thing through. 

There’s a buzz from somewhere to the right of him, and Jason rolls his head towards the sound. The dentist-turned-torture chair he’s strapped to doesn’t so much as creak at his movement. 

The fluorescent lights that have been on since the moment he woke up seem to be even brighter, stabbing into Jason’s skull as he attempts to scan the room. 

Black Mask had set up some sort of electrical board a few hours -  _ days  _ \- ago, and had taken great pleasure in listening to Jason yell and swear. He’d laughed when Jason had pissed himself, laughed louder when he threw up. 

_ Jokes on him,  _ Jason isn’t about to tell the gang leader  _ jackshit.  _

A man is standing next to the generator, two thick cords in each hand, the rubber peeled back from the ends to expose the wire inside. He grins, slow and vicious, and Jason tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

If he’s going to die screaming, he’d rather die looking at the ceiling of a shipping container than at the ugly face of whoever was about to electricute him. 

There’s a shuffling as the man approaches and Jason smiles. Even after all this time, Mask’s men were still hesitant in approaching him. It likely had something to do with their first attempt at strapping him down. He’d managed to rip an ear off, pop another man’s eye out, and distribute several nasty fractures, if the screams were anything to go by, before they’d drugged him enough that he stopped moving. 

Footsteps stop just behind him and Jason laughs. “What,” he says, voice hoarse. “Too fuckin’ scared even when I’m tied down?” There’s no response. Jason keeps talking. He can’t stand to have one more second of  _ silence _ , because silence means planning and planning means new ideas to test out on him. Jason has tried his hardest, has pushed back all the tears that weren’t just reflexive, has ignored the jabs about how ‘ _ the Bats weren’t coming for him, they would’ve found him by now’ _ , but the fear is a constant thrumming in the back of his head. 

“You’re all just the same, ain’t ya? All just grunts, too stupid to think for yourself.” He shakes his head as much as he can, mindful of the burns that pull with the movement. A chuckle slips out, tinged with something that sounds a little too close to hysteria. Jason closes his eyes as he continues to laugh and he - 

A scream  _ rips _ out of his throat, forcing its way past gritted teeth, and distantly, Jason feels something wet running down his face. He sobs on the next exhale, feels his breath catch on the inhale, lungs stuttering in his chest. 

The man says something from behind Jason, maybe a question, maybe just an insult, but it's erased by the haze that is slowly growing in Jason’s head. He doesn’t want to pass out again, passing out means  _ not knowing,  _ means  _ vulnerability,  _ means that he won’t be able defend himself, not even in the form of distracting taunts and comments. 

And then, like Jason’s guardian angel had finally decided to swoop down and save him, the pain stops. 

He lets out a groan, spits out the blood from when he undoubtedly bit his tongue, and swallows thickly. His limbs tremble sporadically, the last vestiges of the electrical current jolting them. 

The pain stopped for a reason. Given how he’s spent his time so far, it likely isn’t a good reason, at least in Jason’s opinion. 

Someone clears their throat and Jason reflexively turns his head in their direction. Roman Sionis smiles at him from his position by the door. Jason didn’t hear the man come in, which goes to show just how  _ done  _ he is. He narrows his eyes and waits for his mouth to fill with blood again, if only so he can spit it in the gangster’s direction. 

Black Mask shakes his head and takes a few steps closer to the restrained vigilante, but stops, Jason notices with no small amount of glee, far out of range in case Jason somehow managed to tear his arms free. “Hood, you’ve got to see reason. They  _ aren’t coming _ for you, you have no reason to protect them.”

Jason shrugs as best as he can. “I ain’t protectin’ them. I just don’ know who they are.”

“You’ve been working with the Bats for over a year, and you have  _ no idea _ who they are? You wear a bat on your chest. That’s one hell of a connection, if you ask me.” Sionis says, a turn to his mouth that Jason definitely doesn’t like. 

“Wha’ can I say,” Jason says, ignoring the slur in his words that appeared sometime after the first time they shocked him to hell and back. “They’re a real secretive bunch.”

The gangster rolls his eyes and gestures for the goon still loitering by Jason to leave. He waits a moment before speaking, whether out of necessity or out of dramatic tendencies, Jason isn’t sure. 

“Just tell me Batman’s name. I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out.” At Jason’s unchanging expression, Sionis keeps talking. “Is he really worth it? Or is this a matter of pride? Just swallow your pride and tell me. Two little words and this all stops.” He gestures to the chair and the blood splattered underneath it.

“Sorry, but,” Jason says, shifting in his seat in an attempt to somehow get more comfortable. “Pride leaves a bad aftertaste, ‘n by the smell of you, you don’t got any gum for me to wash it down with.”

Black Mask snarls, and lifts his hand, only to swing it in a vicious backhand, snapping Jason’s head to the side. Jason spits out a glob of blood with unnerring precision, splattering it across the other man’s shoes. 

He laughs as Sionis swears, fishing a handkerchief out from a suit pocket to wipe the blood away, only to end up far too close to Jason. The vigilante lunges forward as far as he can, restraints straining with the force of his movement, and barely misses, Black Mask scrambling back just enough to dodge Jason’s headbutt. 

The gangster shakes his head mockingly, using the moment to pull himself back together, and Jason can see the embarrassment and anger at being so caught off guard in the lines of Sionis’ suit. Privately, Jason mourns the lost opportunity. Even if slamming his head into Sionis’ gut wouldn’t have ultimately led to his escape, it would’ve been satisfying to watch the man attempt to stagger away while also trying to not throw up. 

“You’re going to regret that  _ very quickly _ ,” Roman all but growls, eyes narrowed, and Jason grins in response. He can taste blood in the back of his throat, can feel the rawness of a split lip, and knows his smile is more unnerving than anything else he’s done in the time he’s been captured. 

Black Mask opens his mouth, as if going to speak, before closing it again. He turns away from the restrained vigilante and leaves without glancing back. Jason feels a stirring of anxiety in his stomach. Whatever the other man was planning, it was satisfying enough that he didn’t feel the need for another look at a beat up Red Hood. Yes, he’s been trained to the point where his pain tolerance is very high, but the past few days have been entirely spent trying to find his breaking point. Jason almost _hopes_ he’ll pass out before too much can happen. 

He doesn’t end up passing out. 

The next few days -  _ weeks, it feels like  _ \- pass in a haze of pain and fear, filled with the desperate and dwindling hope that someone will notice he’s missing,  _ has been missing _ , and will come looking. 

At some point, while Jason is riding the wave of whatever drug they shot him up with to keep him helpless while they take a break or eat their lunch, or whatever the fuck they do when they’re not dragging screams out of his mouth, he manages to overhear a conversation. 

He’s sure that Black Mask didn’t mean for his words to reach Jason’s ears, but he’d obviously forgotten that the shipping container they were keeping Jason in was not nearly as soundproof as he thought. 

It started with the quiet mutterings of one underling or another, obviously nervous about giving his boss whatever news he had. Black Mask responded, frustration and annoyance lacing his tone. Jason had strained his ears, desperate for even a crumble of knowledge of what could make Sionis sound so irritated. 

In the end, he only managed to catch a few snippets of sentences. 

But ‘ _ broadcast’ _ ,  _ ‘Hood’ _ ,  _ ‘Bats’ _ , and  _ ‘show them not to fuck with me’  _ were pretty self-explanatory. 

Jason had tried to stay conscious, stay above the cloud of drugs he could feel waiting just below his skin, but the pain of his aching limbs and head had pulled him back under. He’d tried to claw his way back up, tried to blink and clear his blurry vision, but his eyelids were heavy and his mind was tired. 

He’d closed his eyes and the next time he’d opened them, it had been to the sound of laughter and the thick smell of blood. 

Jason gave up on a rescue sometime between when he nearly bit through his tongue and when they shattered every bone in his left arm. Now he’s just waiting for them to point a gun between his eyes and pull the trigger.

He can hear Dick’s voice in the back of his head, can hear Bruce’s too, telling him to ‘ _ not give up _ ’, to ‘ _ wait for an opportunity to escape _ ’, to  _ ‘hold onto hope _ ’. 

It’s not like Jason’s actively suicidal. It’s just that he’s already on his second chance, something that no one else gets. And what the Bats never really understood and will likely never understand, is that not everyone wants to be alive. 

Sure, Jason would love to get to be a part of the Wayne family again, would love a hug from Dick, however suffocating, would take any chance to ruffle Tim’s hair, but he knows that in reality, that just isn’t possible. He’s only gotten to go to the cave  _ twice  _ in the years that he’s been back, and both times were to share information, nothing more. 

Jason has gotten used to patching himself up alone, has gotten used to the silence that seeps into every moment he doesn’t fill with the noise of cases and hunting down criminals. 

He doesn’t expect to get welcomed back into the family with open arms, not after what he did to Tim, not after what he  _ tried  _ to do to Tim. He just doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want to die with all the words he never got to say still waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

He doesn’t want to die alone again.

Jason is pulled out of the haze he’s sunk into by Black Mask, who takes great pleasure in explaining his plan. Normally, he’d make some snarky comment about how  _ classic  _ and  _ stupid  _ that was, that telling the hero your villainous plan never worked out well. 

But Jason just wants to _sleep._

He knows that he should do his best to stay awake, that the concussion he’s undoubtably sporting doesn’t need him passing out with it, but he’s not sure he cares. He’s been waiting for  _ days  _ for a rescue, has been waiting even longer for a split second in which his restraints are loosened at the wrong moment, and at this point Jason would rather nap than experience whatever Sionis has planned. 

Of course, he doesn’t get what he wants. 

Jason drifts, unmoored in a sea of anxiety and dread, and then comes back to himself to the sounds of voices. He winces as lights blind him, bringing tears to already tired eyes. 

He groans and squints. He might be absolutely exhausted, but situational awareness has been drilled into him since he started training for Robin. Pushing past the pain the comes with opening his eyes, he scans the room. 

The camera across from him was expected, as was the various people filtering in and out of the room at Black Mask’s command. The warehouse walls that surround him, less so. His mind flickers back to the last time he was tied up in a warehouse and he pushes it away. Now isn’t the time to think about that. 

Now is the time to figure out what Black Mask was planning to broadcast. Sure, Jason knows he’s going to get knocked around, just to prove that the  _ Red Hood  _ isn’t as invincible as he seems, but what he needs to know if it's going to be an execution or an auction. 

A goon approaches the camera, anxious fingers fumbling on the buttons, and finally nods at Sionis. Jason tilts his head in the direction of the gangster and watches as he begins to move, coming closer and closer until he’s just beside Jason. 

“Hello, Gotham,” Roman says. Jason’s eyes flicker shut and he lets out a sigh at the relief the darkness gives him. “The man you see before you is the famed  _ Red Hood _ . The ghost in the night, the nightmare who has kept you from doing your jobs by threat of bullets.”

Jason swallows. He wonders if the Bats are seeing the broadcast. Maybe they’re deciding to leave Jason to his fate. That he’d brought it onto himself. A hand slides into his hair, gloved fingers tangling in the strands, and his eyes snap open. The touch is far too familiar to one from a years old memory. He shudders and ignores the echoing sound of laughter growing in his head. 

“I’m here to tell you all that he is finished. That in a few short hours, he’ll be another body on the floor, no different than the ones he leaves behind.” That wasn’t true, not anymore. Jason had stopped killing, had stopped using lethal force, long before he was allowed into the Batcave. “The False Facers will be taking his territory as ours. You’ll be wanting to accept our offers of protection.”

Jason snarls under his breath, too quiet to be anything but a whisper of sound. Assholes who go around threatening an entire  _ territory  _ of people, let alone threatening  _ Crime Alley _ , don’t last long. Unfortunately, it was because of Jason that they didn’t make it very far. 

He eyes the gun on one of the watching men’s hips and wonders if it’ll be quick. 

He just wants to get it over with. 

Playing the waiting game was never his forte. 

If Jason gets the chance, he’s going to unleash absolute  _ hell  _ onto the people around him. They can threaten him however much they want, he’s used to it. But he thought he had  _ made it clear  _ that Crime Alley wasn’t to be fucked with. The duffle bag of heads had been a pretty clear message. 

Obviously, it had faded from most memories. 

The camera must’ve been turned off, because Black Mask spins to him with a grin on his face. “A few hours? Who am I kidding, I’ve been waiting to do this  _ for months. _ ” He pats Jason’s shoulder softly and Jason grits his teeth as pain flares down his arm.  _ Maybe it’s dislocated?  _ He hopes not. 

“You’ve been a real pain in the ass, you know,” Roman says, the smile replaced by a frown, almost too exaggerated to be real. 

“Listen,” Jason says, blinking slowly. “Black Mask. Mr Mask? You can threaten the people in my territory all ya like, but you know what happens when ya kill a Bat. Ya gonna be hunted for the rest of your  _ miserable life _ . Targeted and stopped at every turn.” 

Sionis rolls his eyes. “You’re hardly a Bat anyway. It won’t matter to them. If it did, don’t you think they’d be here by now?” He grins nastily. 

“Ya see,” the vigilante says, letting a little bit of a smile escape onto his lips. “ ’S not really about whether I’m  _ actually  _ part of their super secret boy band anyway. It’s about the message. If someone who wears a Bat gets killed and nothin’ happens, the rest are shown as fair game. And B would never let that happen to a Robin.”

_ Not the current Robin, at least.  _

_ Hopefully.  _

The other man scoffs and moves away, out of Jason’s line of sight, leaving him to the mercy of the too-bright spotlights surrounding him. When he comes back, he’s holding a gun. Jason’s eyes lock onto the weapon, and he can’t tell if the shaking that is slowly overtaking him is from relief or from fear. 

_ He just wants a goddamn break _ . 

Sionis smiles again as he steps closer. “You know, I never really liked guns. Too messy. Too fast. But I’d like to get rid of you quick.” He looks down at Jason and raises the handgun. Jason stares down the barrel and sees death coming.

He has stared down death before, has locked eyes with the reaper dressed as a clown, but it was nothing like now. Getting beaten to death by a crowbar is nothing like a bullet to the face. 

He can easily say which he prefers. 

“Any last words?”

Jason grins. “See you in hell.”

Sionis cocks the gun. “I-”

Gunfire erupts from outside the room. Black Mask falls silent, whatever he was planning to say dying behind his teeth, as his men scramle into position, surrounding the door. Jason laughs and looks up. The combination of the bulbs from the spotlights and the shadows that fill the rafters prevents him from pinpointing  _ where  _ the bird is, but he knows they’re there.

That was the thing with Gotham villains. They always forgot to look  _ up.  _

A canister hits the ground with a clang, and coughs begin to sound as smoke fills the warehouse. There’s a bang as the main doors are flung open and Jason listens as shouting and the pop of gunfire fill his ears. 

He lets out a groan as one of the spotlights is knocked sideways, sending a beam of light across his eyes and blinding him entirely. The throbbing in his head grows and he nearly groans again at the effort of not puking. 

Jason  _ really  _ doesn’t want to throw up on himself. 

Then there are hands on him,  _ hands holding him down,  _ and Jason bucks from beneath them. They slip, jolted loose by his violent reaction, and he throws himself away from their grip. He hits the floor with a thud. Jason is pretty sure he hears something crack. 

He scrambles away as best as he can, boots sliding on the warehouse floor as he struggles to push himself up and to his feet.

“-ood!  _ Hood!  _ It’s us, we’ve got you.” Jason blinks rapidly, unsuccessfully trying to clear the haze from his vision, frozen in his position on the ground. Arms wrap around him, pulling him close to someone else. “You’re safe, we’ve got you.”

“N‘wing?” He slurs. “Didn’ think you’d come.”

The body behind him shakes. “Of course we came, little wing. Of course we came.”

“Oh.” Jason can feel himself finally sliding back into the state of unconsciousness that he'd been craving for the last hour. Now that he’s finally safe, now that he knows he isn’t going to wake up with another broken bone or more electricity burning in his veins, he can feel his body finally crashing. “ ‘M gonna pass out now.”

“No Jason,  _ don’t _ -” 

The words come too late. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. Jason’s safe. He’ll be fine. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Warning for graphic electrocution and referenced further torture, but not graphic  
> Guns are also a thing in this fic so if that is triggering, maybe skip a bit of the ending, from around the time Sionis walks away after the broadcast to the moment when one of the lights gets knocked over.
> 
> Leave comment, kudos, or advice! Lmk what y'all thought


End file.
